


Aftershocks

by Lilipoussis



Series: Mission: Protect Tony Stark [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Clint Barton & Tony Stark Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Tony Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:43:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5045200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilipoussis/pseuds/Lilipoussis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world knows and all Tony wants is for everything to go back to normal, but some things have changed forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftershocks

**Author's Note:**

> A follow on from my work 'I Am Not Your Victim" which should probably be read before this one! 
> 
> As was the case with the first story there are some graphic flashbacks of child abuse in this story. Please read with caution if any kind of violence is a trigger for you.

They had all but moved in to the living room over the week that had passed, pretending that they didn’t hear the helicopter that continued to circle their home, ignoring any news that had to do with Tony, and not speaking about the recent revelation except when Tony would bring it up.

Pepper and Rhodey called the day after the news broke, forcing Jarvis to take their calls despite the strict radio silence the entire Avengers tower had adopted since the interview had gone to air, leaving them with no information as to Tony’s wellbeing. The moment he heard their voices Tony became jittery, wringing his hands together as he listened to them, Steve resting a comforting hand on his shoulder to try and calm his nerves. The looming possibility of losing Rhodey’s respect, or Pepper’s quick-witted, affectionate insults as a result of this news twisted his gut painfully.

He had nothing to worry about, of course he hadn’t, they had just spoken to Tony like they would any other day, with perhaps, a few more tears, but not a shred of their respect or friendship has been lost, and it felt so familiar Tony could hardly breathe from the relief. The pair of them were angry, beyond belief, that they had missed the signs. Rhodey having to excuse himself after realising that Tony had been having flashback’s during Afghanistan, and Rhodey had dismissed it as his usual eccentricity combined with jetlag.

Life was a semblance of normal, the team constructing a bubble in which Tony didn’t have to think about what had happened, could pretend that he was still in complete control of his own personal life.

There were a few incidents.

Tony’s flashbacks were fiercely vivid, and Clint had become his rock. Steve was still his comedown man, still knew the ways to make Tony feel safe and loved when he could hardly tell the difference between his hallucinations and reality, but Clint had been in Tony's shoes. He knew how Loki could leave you reeling, and how shockingly realistic, and even physically painful the flashbacks could be.

It became common to wear the comms in the tower, so that when Tony recognised the signs of a flashback approaching he could call for help, and Clint would be with him in seconds, somehow able to materialise by Tony’s side no matter where he was, a steady voice in his ear keeping him grounded, helping him remember the pain was a memory now, and that was all.

Such a turn was taking place now, as Tony stood beside Thor in the kitchen, doing his best to be useful around the tower after feeling like a burden on the team for the last few days, slouching around the place and breaking down too often. He knew that none of them saw him like that, knew that they were glad to know about his past, so that they could help him in the present. He was glad he had them to watch his back as well and if it hadn’t been for close to forty years of self isolating habits, he might have been a little more gracious in accepting their help in times like this.

As he washed and Thor dried, Tony felt his hands begin to shake, as they were somehow more prone to do since Loki had reached inside his mind and shook loose memories that had been so carefully blocked out. He drew in a breath sharply, trying to force his hands to still, and his heart to calm itself but he knew the signs by now, knew that the panic and the flashback was close to taking over from reality. “Anthony?” Thor asked, looking over him with concern, Steve’s head picking up sharply at the Asguardian’s worried tone from where he was perched at the kitchen counter, his eyes narrowing as he saw the pallor of Tony’s skin.

Tony winced, letting out a pained gasp as a kitchen knife, submerged in the suds sliced his palm, the tremor of his arms forcing the blade deep into his skin. With the pain came the fog, settling over his eyes, as memories began to pound at the walls he struggled to keep up within his own mind. “Tony…Tony?” Steve probed, standing quickly to round the counter and place soft hands on Tony’s shoulders, “Tony I’m here, you’re here with me and Thor ok? Tony?” Steve grew even more concerned as he felt the harsh trembling of his lover’s muscles, the tension that suddenly locked his joints into a stock-still position. He tapped his ear, seeing as Tony was too far-gone to call for help on his own, “Clint, we need you in the kitchen.”

Steve barely registered the affirmative as Tony jerked in his arms again, stumbling back as though the water had burned him, hitting Steve’s chest and turning to stare at him with wide, frightened eyes, looking every bit the scared child Steve knew was inside his mind. Steve backed away, trying to give him space, but stopped as he saw the blood that began to coat Tony’s hand, winding a slow path down his arm and onto the floor as Tony stared at the crimson drips in horror, the copper smell only making his flashback all the more real as he fell, scrabbling back and cementing himself against the side of the counter as the memories took hold of him.

* * *

 

_The soft, dull ache seemed to slowly rise through him as Tony woke, his hands felt as though they were burning, a searing pain shooting from his palms and down his arms, the only indication that he was conscious once more._

_The empty mansion seemed to be silent and agonisingly loud all at once as Tony let forth an anguished wail, unable to internalise this pain. He couldn’t move, the knives in his palms cutting deeper, ripping through more flesh with every subtle shift of his body. He sat against the wall, head thrown back against the mahogany panelling, his screams echoing through the halls, his only hope of reaching someone, anyone who could help. His mother was away, Jarvis long gone and most of the staff sent home for the holiday, Tony was certain it was to ensure no witnesses for this particular Howard Stark celebration of malice._

_He had passed out a few times while sitting here, pinned to the walls, the tang of blood sitting on his tongue and filling his nostrils with every breath, his eyelids drooping weekly as the pain coursed through his veins, sapping him of every drop of energy he had managed to hold onto. Every time he came to he struggled to remember how long it had been since he had heard a kind voice, or felt a comforting touch. It seemed as though he had lived his whole life pinned to this wall, in constant agony that only increased with each attempt to escape the pain._

_Tony didn’t want to live like this anymore, he didn’t want to spend his life in constant agony. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted someone to care but he knew that they didn’t._

_Everyone just cared about the image, the perfect loving family, the teenage genius who would do anything for his father, never mind that behind closed doors the Stark men hated each other._ _But what hurt most was that Tony had never really hated his father._

_He had blamed himself for most of his life. How could he not? His father was America's greatest businessman. Tony was just some boy lucky enough to share his name._

_Lying here against this wall, agony coursing through his veins there were voices, words that would run on repeat in his mind, “waste of space….never live up to…you’re not my son.” Words that would cut deeper than any blade, words that turned this pain into a punishment he deserved, a punishment he had brought upon himself just by being born into the Stark genius. Insults and taunts circled through is mind, dropping him in and out of awareness, the only constant was the silence and the pain._

_It could have been hours, minutes or days, he wasn’t sure, until he heard the sharp, startled gasp and the rushed footsteps, felt a sudden presence by his side. “Mr Stark? Master Stark can you hear me?”_ _Her voice seemed miles away to him, it was unfamiliar, but the concern was something he had craved for years to hear, so he tried to get closer, moaning as the knives held him back._

_“Tony?” He heard, and the voice seemed different, seemed more familiar but he had no idea why, he didn’t know this person but they were his closest ally._

_“Tony snap out of it, Tony I’m here snap out of it!” He heard them call, and they cared about him, they really cared about him but he couldn’t find them, could only feel the maid’s hand on his face and the sudden searing pain as the knives slid free, one after the other, his arms dropping like dead weight to the sides as she held his head in her lap, ripping her dress to press the cotton against his bleeding hands._

_“Tony!” The voice came again, like a shout, unfamiliar but so comforting he knew he had to run towards it. Another voice, just the same, unknown but sounding like a home he had never had “Tony please.” He wanted to see these people calling him, his protectors._

_“Tony!”_

_And then he knew who he was running to, and suddenly the pain seemed to drop down, still there in his mind but nothing close to the searing agony he had been unable to escape from for what had seemed like so long._

_“Clint…Clint are you there?” He whimpered, desperate to know that he was right, that he had friends who were watching over him._

_“Steve?”_

_“Thank god, Tony keep coming, keep coming back to me ok, listen to me.” Clint’s voice came like a bucket of cold water to the face, and Tony felt as though he were rising up, away from the maid who had tried to help, away from the fear and the anger of his father, and up the people who were waiting for him._

_Finally, he had people waiting for him._

* * *

 

Steve was terrified. He had seen Tony in a flashback before, but never like this. Tony would usually shut down completely, dead to the world and unable to register anything but Clint’s reassuring words, and even that would take some time for him to respond to.

This time something had been different, the blood and the cut on his hand had made it all the worse, all the more real and he had been gone for longer than usual. He had passed out twice, his own mind creating pain so unbearable that it had to switch off, reboot, and then start again.

Steve sat across from where Tony had pressed himself against the kitchen counter. Steve had wanted to move him somewhere more comfortable but Clint had refused after Tony had screamed as they tried to touch him, sure that any contact they made with him while he was so far gone in the flashback would cause his brain to snap, like he had been burned in the places their hands touched his skin. It had made bringing Tony up, and out of the memory all the more difficult for Clint, who would usually grip Tony’s hand and act as an anchor to his present, but now in the throws of a memory deeper than Clint knew how to deal with, he had to sit back and talk, a constant stream, waiting for his voice to break through.

It had taken close to an hour, compared to the ten minute ordeals Tony had encountered over the past few days, and with each passing minute, Clint, Steve and Thor had grown more concerned for his safety, and what such a long flashback could mean.

“Tony snap out of it” Clint commanded, his voice wavering a little, the concern so blindingly clear in his tone and Steve knew how he felt, as he leant against the opposing counter to Tony’s, their eyes level but Tony’s glazed and unseeing, darting around the room, watching people that Steve had never known. Sometimes they simply fell shut, Tony’s laboured breathing and pained moans cutting of abruptly. Even though each time he would come around again, eyes widened with a phantom pain once more, Steve’s heart seemed to stop with every moment that Tony lay as still as death.

It was like seeing a future he never wanted to reach, Tony laying unresponsive in front of him, limbs locked sharply after losing a struggle against intense pain. Steve swore to himself many times that hour that he would never let Tony fall, he would never let himself lose him.

“Tony!” Clint shouted, his voice shaded with a desperation that had been present since the moment he had arrived by Tony’s side. “Tony!” Clint yelled again, terrified that he wouldn’t be enough to bring Tony out of this, that he had already failed just a week after swearing to help his friend through this for as long it took.

Clint tried again, practically screaming Tony’s name in the kitchen, the rest of the team now watching over them with concern, standing at the entrance of the kitchen and not daring to make a sound should they disturb Clint’s important work. Thor had noticed them, and motioned for them to stay back a little, give Tony some space when he woke from his trance, and they respected the request.

Steve and Clint hadn’t registered their presence yet however, their focus zeroed in on Tony and only Tony, reacting to every movement, their voices hoarse from calling his name.

“Tony?” Steve called, and Tony stirred ever so slightly, seemed to look at Steve, his brow furrowed in confusion, trying to clear the fog, before falling back into the memory.

Clint’s head snapped up to look at Steve, “Keep going” he urged, and taking his own advice, began to call Tony’s name on a desperate loop, encouraged by every fleeting emotion, every slight movement Tony made that didn’t cause him to cry out in pain.

Tony had been sitting with his arms splayed out against the counter, every slight movement causing him to cry out or scream, his arm’s twitching from the strain and obvious pain his subconscious was inflicting upon Tony’s healthy body. Clint knew that phantom pain well, Loki’s spells had left him reeling for weeks, and he was determined to make this at least a little easier on Tony.

“Tony snap out of it, Tony I’m here snap out of it!” Clint called and one of Tony’s arms dropped suddenly, and he was screaming again, pitching to the side, lacking any kind of energy to hold himself up any longer as Clint held his weight. Tony’s head slumped onto his shoulder as Clint hovered beside him. The other arm dropped sharply and Tony whimpered, too exhausted to scream, his head now cradled in Clint’s lap, his friend running a comforting hand through his hair the second that he was sure the contact wouldn’t cause any further pain. Steve scooted forward, holding onto Tony’s hands and taking a bandage offered by Thor, winding it around the deep cut that had begun this whole ordeal.

“Tony” Clint took up his mantra once more, repeating Tony’s name softly in his ear, Steve joining him until they were rewarded with a sudden movement, Tony’s eyes flicking up, and out, looking past them in confusion.

“Clint?” The whole team stopped, the tension in the room palpable as Tony shifted out of Clint’s loose embrace, forcing himself up on wobbling legs, pressing himself against the counter as support, “Clint are you there?” Tony called, and Clint was up by his side again, taking his arm and holding him steady.

“I’m here buddy, come back out here with us, Steve’s waiting for you bud, wants to see you and so do I Tony. I just need you to come home for me first ok?” Clint told him, a reassuring presence, ignoring the way that Tony hung on just a little too tight, the pressure enough to cause bruises.

“Steve?” Tony called, and Steve moved closer from where he had been hanging back, holding Tony on the other side, desperate to support his partner, “I’m here, I love you Tony come back to me.”

Tony, for a split second, turned his head and registered Steve’s presence, and Clint knew by now that meant the hold of the memories was close to being broken.

“Thank god” Clint swore, holding his friend closer “Tony keep coming, keep coming back to me ok, listen to me” he began, running soothing circles over Tony’s back and holding him upright, prepared in a way the others weren’t for what was about to happen, Tony had never let himself break down with them all around, and if Clint hadn’t been so wrapped up in Tony’s safety, he might have asked them to leave Tony alone with him, preserve some of the privacy Tony so craved.

Suddenly Tony convulsed, like he had been slammed into by some unseen force, Steve’s grip tightening in a sudden panic at the sight, unsure of how to help.

Clint recognised the signs that Tony was emerging back into reality, throwing off the vision that the remnants of Loki’s magic had so badly pulled him into. He himself knew that feeling of resurgence, knew that Tony was about to fall forwards with the sheer force of the abrupt awakening, and so moved, turning to face Tony’s front and hold his body weight, provide something for Tony to cling on to as he tried to make sense of the sudden shift of his world.

He felt Tony grapple at his shirt, scrambling to hold onto Clint and anchor himself. Clint held him back, tightening his arms around his friend’s waist and slowly walking them backward toward Steve, who wordlessly extended an arm to wrap around Tony’s back, exchanging a look of deep gratitude with Clint, knowing full well that Tony may have suffered even more, had Clint not been there for him.

Tony was like a dead weight, barely able to see the figures of his friends, his muscles too tired to do anything but cling to Clint’s solid form, safe in the knowledge that these people cared about him now, that they would come if he were left screaming and alone.

He barely registered the fact that Steve had lifted him into his arms as he fell into a dreamless sleep, the deep black of unconsciousness a welcome relief from the sharp focus world he had found himself trapped in. There was a warm presence by his side as he slept, and arms that held him close as if to convince their owner that Tony was still there.

Steve was on full alert as Tony slept, watching for any sign the man was about to fall into another memory and switch off from reality. He lay there and wondered, more than once, how he could ever ask for Tony’s forgiveness for stirring up these old memories in the first place.

Steve had doubted if he could ever make up for those days, obliviously asking Tony to relive his worst nightmare, torturing him without laying a hand on his body. After today he knew, that he would never forgive himself for this.

* * *

 

Tony woke with a start, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he tried to make sense of the mess in his head, the dull throb of a splitting headache threatening to break over him any second.

“Tony?” Steve asked quietly, loosening his grip on the man slightly, allowing some space to the man after clinging tightly to his frame for close to ten hours.

Tony rolled over, locking his gaze with Steve’s and recognising the unbridled concern in his boyfriend’s eyes. He was sure he must have broken down spectacularly to cause such a reaction in Steve, who was usually so unaffected, or at least tried to seem unaffected, in the face of Tony’s flashbacks, acting as a solid rock to whom Tony could go without fear of pity or judgement as he exited the throws of his memories. But today there was clear fear for Tony, and with it, a familiar feeling that Tony was becoming a burden on Steve, on the whole team.

And of course, that was when the headache hit.

Tony groaned, spinning onto his back and letting his head fall heavy against the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to decipher which memories were from today, and what had been forced out of place by the flashback, Loki’s magic scrambling his own timeline, putting childhood memories in the midst of his adult life just for the sake of fucking with him.

Clint had been helping him reorganise his thoughts, sitting with him and talking him through the things Tony had been saying or doing during his flashbacks, so that together they could identify what needed to be refiled. Clint had told him he had been coming up against out of place memories for months after Loki, because he had no idea how to fix himself. Tony hoped it would be a quicker process for him, with Clint’s expert guidance. He hated the feeling that he was broken somehow.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Steve asked, and Tony could sense him hovering uncertainly, still finding his feet in this new ground between them, not wanting to overstep any boundaries that came with this vulnerable side of their relationship.

Tony reached out blindly, his hand finding Steve’s, winding their fingers together carefully to reassure him that he was doing fine, and that he was always welcome by Tony’s side. “I need water…or an asprin or something, Christ!” Tony groaned, the effort of speaking making the pain spear through his temple.

“Yeah…yeah of course, I’ll get you some.” Steve floundered a little, causing Tony to smile at the flustered tone. He supposed it came down to some strange forties' chivalry thing, the way Steve thought he should be able to predict every little thing Tony might want, or need, and supply it in advance. It was adorable, really, the way he would panic when he hadn’t gotten it right.

Tony squeezed his hand tightly in reassurance before letting him go, the pain behind his temples growing to be too much to ignore.

“Don’t go anywhere” Steve muttered, and Tony would have laughed at his receding back if it didn’t cause white hot daggers to attack the inside of his skull.

* * *

 

Tony didn’t emerge from his room until the next day, spending his time trying to sleep away the splitting headaches that always seemed to follow his flashbacks. Of course, some of the self enforced isolation had to do with being embarrassed about the whole team watching him fall apart, but he didn’t need to admit that aloud.

The team were all gathered around in the lounge room when he joined them, a little wobbly on his feet after so long in bed and rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. They all looked up, each of them valiantly attempting to hide their worried glances from him, but failing miserably.

Tony smiled at their barely concealed concern, waving his hand “I’m ok guys, just tired” he reassured them, slumping into his place beside Steve and Clint.

A feather light touch came up and began massaging his temples, and Tony turned to thank his boyfriend for the soothing touch, which was succeeding in removing some of the bight from his migraine, but Steve only smiled and nodded toward Clint, whose skilled fingers knew the pains of a flashback and now worked silently to remove as much of Tony’s discomfort as possible.

“How bad are they?” Clint asked, finally turning his gaze from the rerun of Friends that was playing quietly on the enormous flat screen, and looking Tony in the eye, searching for any sign the pain was worse than usual.

Tony smiled back at the archer, grateful for his caring touch, “only a little worse than the others, but I was out a little longer right? So that’s kind of expected…” he replied quietly.

“Tony you were out for around an hour, you scared the shit out of me man, never seen you so far gone like that. I would have never let the others crowd around and watch you if I hadn’t been so scared you were gonna stop breathing” Clint reprimanded, his brow furrowing in concern as he recalled the events of the previous day for what seemed like the thousandth time since Tony had retreated to his bedroom.

“An hour? Shit.” Tony breathed, instinctively reaching out to take a hold of Steve’s hand, wincing as he felt the slight tremor in Steve’s usually steady hands. He squeezed lightly, tracing equations and algorithms into the palm of Steve’s hand, the numbers coming to him naturally, and the touch soothing Steve.

“I’ve never seen it so bad, you scared the shit out of us man, next time you call me the second the shakes start ok?” Clint demanded, raising his eyebrow as if challenging Tony to argue, before letting his face show some of the fear he still held for his friend “I don’t want to see you like that again” Clint said quietly, and Tony reached up with his free hand to clasp his shoulder, squeezing in order to make sure Clint knew he understood.

“I promise.” Tony said solemnly, and Clint knew that for all the jokes that Tony often offered up in situations like this, for once he was deadly serious.

Clint nodded, and simply resumed his delicate massage of Tony’s temples, knowing just when to dig in slightly with more pressure, and when to back away to barely a feather of a touch against Tony’s skin, showing an experience that Tony did not envy, as Clint had had to learn this skill in order to help himself through his own flashbacks, alone.

Tony could think of nothing worse.

* * *

 

Their luck ran out two days later.

Tony winced as the Assemble alarm sounded throughout their communal levels, shattering the illusion they had managed to build up within the tower that they were trapped in a timeless bubble, able to avoid the outside world for as long as they wished.

“What have we got Cap?” Clint’s voice came over the comms, as Tony saw Natasha heading from her place in the kitchen toward the armoury swiftly, already suited up in her skin tight, specially designed Stark body armour, reinforced to withstand any barrage from conventional weapons.

“Doom seems to be taking advantage of our radio silence, he’s trying to take over Times Square again” came Steve’s voice, sounding both annoyed and bored at the poor attempt at world domination. Surely Doom had learned by now that he was no match for them on his own.

“Should be a walk in the park then” Tony grinned, ignoring the slight tremor in his hands as the armour encased him for the first time since the world had learned his secret. He hadn’t dared to venture outside yet, had hardly even been game enough to stand close to the reinforced windows of the tower and look down at the reporters which were still camped beneath their door.

“Tony…you up for this?” Clint asked, his voice steady, lacking all judgement or doubt. Tony knew they would trust his judgement no matter what he decided in that moment.

“I can do this…got to face the world sometime right? At least it’s just Doom.” Tony replied, grateful that no one commented on the slight waver in his voice, or the obvious nerves that were so unusual for Tony before battle. “You need to tap out, at any time, you tap out. You hear me?” Steve demanded, using his commanding Captain tone, but Tony could hear the concern behind the words.

“I will Steve…I can do this.” Tony all but whispered, the faceplate snapping down over his face, the mask shielding his face from the ravenous journalists that would follow them as soon as they left the tower.

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve replied, and Tony smiled within the suit, holding on to the words as he took off from the protruding balcony of the tower, ignoring the helicopter that raced toward him as he set off toward Times Square.

* * *

 

The battle was like an exercise in muscle memory, the familiar confidence that the Iron Man suit gave him slowly filling him up once more, adrenaline flowing through his veins as they made quick work of Doom. Tony and Thor kept him out of the skies as Steve and Bruce cornered him, letting Clint and Tasha move in for the take down.

They were in and out within ten minutes of the alarm sounding.

The difficult part, was landing beside Steve, lifting his faceplate as he so often had done after a battle before, and being blinded by a sudden flash, turning and noticing the swarm of reporters who had followed them to the Square, waiting for their first glance of the oh so damaged Avenger since the interview had aired.

Tony grimaced, before quickly scrambling to plaster on his usual media smile, cursing himself for giving them pictures of him looking anything less than his ordinary, charming, fake self.

Steve placed his hand on Tony’s back as a comforting anchor, but letting Tony stand strong in front of the media on his own. He knew how important it was to Tony for everyone to see him as the brave hero, and not a terrified victim.

“Come on, let’s go back to the Quinjet” Steve said quietly, moving to guide Tony away from invasive media swarm that now jostled against the police perimeter, ignoring Doom as he was taken into custody for the hundredth time. Tony shook his head slightly, as though Steve’s voice had broken him from a reverie, and he went to follow, trying to ignore the questions that were hurled towards him.

Clint was scowling at the reporters from his place, crouched in the metal joists of the jet, searching the crowd with his eyes, almost daring them to step past the perimeter and closer to Tony, so that he could have an excuse to take them down from there on his perch.

Tony and Steve were just at the foot of the ramp when one reporter called after them, “How can we believe the word of a war profiteer against the word of one of this countries greatest ever businessmen? This is probably just another publicity stunt!”

Tony froze, the words crashing into him like iced water, making him shiver and his hands shake. Steve tensed beside him before walking him up the ramp and into the safety of the jet, sitting him down beside Natasha and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before heading back outside.

Tony barely noticed, too lost in memories of the trauma of not only his childhood, but Afghanistan, remembering the way people touted his kidnapping as nothing more than a ruse to get him out of weapons distribution charges. He could feel Tasha holding his hand, and could hear her quietly murmuring in his ear but could barely pay attention to anything but the fleeting memories.

“I’m…I’m S-Sorry” Tony gasped out, stuttering over his words. Tasha grasped his hand tighter.

* * *

 

Steve stormed back down the ramp, straight past Clint who was practically snarling from his position, barely noticing when the archer dropped down beside him and fell in step, the pair of them marching toward the media.

“You want a statement?” Steve growled, his temper getting the best of him as he stared down the reporter who had screamed out at Tony. He heard Clint snarl again from behind him when, instead of the bastards showing fear or remorse, a sea of recording devices were shoved under their noses.

“Here’s my statement. Tony Stark is worth one hundred of his father. More. He saved this city by risking his life and flying an atom bomb into space.” Steve began, spit flying as he practically shouted at the crowd, his blood boiling beneath his skin.

“He created the most advanced technology this planet has ever seen inside a cave with a terrorists gun pressed to his temple. He has saved every member of this team ten times over, and he’ll keep saving us as long as he is breathing.” Steve shouted his voiced breaking a little with emotion, thinking of how much Tony had been through, and how poorly he was still treated.

“And he has _survived_. He survived in a house with a drunken monster who was too threatened by the genius of a six year old to be a decent father, who beat him and abused him and left him to die. He survived all of that and is still the best man I have ever known, better than the monster you call America’s greatest businessman. Learn some respect for him, he is stronger than you could ever hope to be you fucking bastard!” Steve screamed, cursing for what he was sure was the first time in public, certainly the first time when media were recording him, but he didn’t care.

“Stay the fuck away from Tony” Clint growled from behind him, “he doesn’t deserve your stupid media bullshit.”

The pair of them turned as one, Clint trotting a little to keep up with Steve’s enormous strides, the pair of them ignoring the eruption of flashes and noise at their backs, as they quickly made up the ground between them and the jet, knowing in the back of their minds that Fury would have their guts for this, but not caring one bit.

Someone needed to stand up for Tony. For once in his life he needed someone in his corner.

Steve all but sprinted up the ramp to make his way back inside as Clint threw one last glare over his shoulder at the crowd that were still snapping photos, before Bruce pulled up the ramp, preparing them for the flight back to the tower.

Steve crouched down, settling himself in front of Tony in an instant. The anger that had only seconds ago has been coursing through his veins now fading as he reached out gently to untangle the sweat soaked curls which plastered Tony’s head.

“It’s ok, it’s ok Tony. You are so good, such a good man.” Steve whispered, with a gentility that he only ever really showed to his boyfriend, cupping Tony’s head lovingly and pressing soft kisses to his hair “you are the strongest, bravest, best man I’ve ever known. I want you believe that when I say it to you, ok?” Steve said quietly.

Tony just nodded, barely noticeably, and leant forward into Steve’s embrace, resting his head wearily against his boyfriends toned chest, focusing on the steady, comforting heartbeat thrumming beneath Steve’s chest. “Love you” Steve whispered, tucking his chin on top of Tony’s head and encircling the smaller man, still half clad in the armour, in his strong grip.

“I wanna tap out…just for a little while.” Tony whispered, clutching at Steve like he was his only anchor to the world. Steve just closed his eyes, his breath stuttering just slightly as he held Tony tightly.

“Ok.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all your kind words they are so much appreciated!! 
> 
> I am sorry about such a delay! I know this isn't as long as the first part and was actually hoping to let this part continue on a bit longer but it was getting to be too much in one installment and I wanted to get something up because of the amazing response I saw with the first story! So I decided here was a good cut off! I am finishing school in two weeks time (forever) so I should have more free time after that to get some work out there!


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